


Unraveling

by TheMuffinBee



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Angst, F/M, First Kiss, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-15
Updated: 2019-07-15
Packaged: 2020-06-28 12:47:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,406
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19812610
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuffinBee/pseuds/TheMuffinBee
Summary: Wrapped up in layer after layer of denial, Caleb has become a master of pretending all sorts of thoughts, feelings, what-ifs, maybes, and wants don't exist.A distraught Jester puts that to the test one night in Nicodranas.





	Unraveling

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to grandfatherclock, @Ben-roll-io, and @Zafflebird for being my lovely betas! Thank you for your help!!!

"Jester?”

Too late, Caleb caught sight of a blue tail vanishing behind the swinging tavern door, footsteps masked by the noise of the raucous barroom.

_Damn it._

She shouldn’t be out in the streets of Nicodranas alone when there was still a price on her head, and especially not when she was almost out of spells.

With wine and a couple of shots in his system, he needed to find someone else to go after her. But when he looked around, he realized Nott was already back at home with Yeza and Luc, Caduceus and Yahsa had gone to bed exhausted, Beau was more smashed than a sailor on leave after she found the tavern selling some of her family’s wine (he needed to talk to her about that), and Fjord…

Well, Fjord had just propositioned a very pretty lady of the evening with as much awkwardness as one could, which had prompted their little blue tiefling’s stealthy escape.

Caleb understood how being skewered and nearly having your entrails ripped from your body as part of some primitive, sacrificial ritual could make someone want to enjoy certain things in life. That was fine. The problem was with whom Fjord had chosen to enjoy said things. Or rather whom he had _not_ chosen.

How the hell was that man so dense? How could someone be so smart in so many ways, yet so very stupid? He could have shown at least _some_ emotional gratitude towards the woman that saved his ass.

This time Caleb said it aloud. “Damn it.”

It looked like it was going to be him by his somewhat inebriated self.

Pushing through the door with far less grace than the cleric had managed, he heard Beau calling after him, “H-Hey, Caleb! Where’re ya goin’?”

No time to stop, he fumbled around in his pocket for his piece of copper wire and cast _Message_ , “I’ll be back in a little bit, just...out for a walk.” With any luck, that would keep her in the inn, the last thing he needed was a boozed-up monk running loose as well.

Pausing at the corner, feet a tad unsteady and his breath visible in the night air, Caleb scanned the lantern-lit street for any sign of Jester, suddenly wishing he had the spell to locate people transcribed into his spellbook. His gaze snapped to a sudden movement he caught at the corner of his eye.

_There!_

Her unmistakable silhouette, head down and fists clenched, disappeared around a corner.

Shit, it looked as though she had forgotten to disguise herself. Where was she going? The Lavish Chateau wasn’t an option tonight, her mother had a client and all of the rooms were booked, yet Jester still seemed to be heading in that direction.

Thankfully, both of the moons were close to full tonight, making it an easy task to tail the cleric. Keeping a respectable distance, Caleb followed her through the winding streets, worrying that she didn’t really know where she was going. Having spent most of her life cooped up inside of the Chateau, she was almost as much of a visitor to Nicodranas as the rest of the Nein. Then again, she always seemed to know the way back home, no matter where they were.

The coastline came into view through the shadowed buildings, the twinkling lights of the Lavish Chateau soon following, and Caleb felt his worry turn into panic. She was smarter than this, he knew she was. Just as he was about to run up to her, she took a sharp turn off of the cobblestone street and down a narrow set of stairs onto a small pocket beach.

Stopping at the ornate railing and leaning against a street lantern flickering in the breeze, he breathed a sigh of relief as she walked along the line of lush trees and settled onto a bench.

Oh, good. She just wanted somewhere to be alone, to think. He understood that sentiment well enough.

But...now what?

It would be rude, not to mention more than a little awkward, to interrupt her. Then again, he couldn’t sit there and watch her for however long she decided to stay out on the beach and follow her back without ever making his presence known, that would be creepy. Of course, he couldn’t leave her by herself. What if a guard discovered her? What if she got arrested and no one knew?

“Caleb? Is that you?”

Well, that took care of one problem for him, and created a whole crop more. He cleared his throat and descended the steps. “Um, ja. It’s, it’s me.”

She straightened up her dejected slump as he walked towards her, trying to appear relaxed, natural. But as he got closer, he could see the way her face was turned away, the tightness of her fingers on the bench's edge, the way her tail curled underneath her.

"Is it alright if I…" He motioned to the spot next to her.

"Oh! Yeah, um, sure!" There was an edge of forced cheerfulness ringing her words. She scooted over to the side to make room, but did not turn towards him. "Did you come to check up on me?”

“Sorry, I hope that was alright. I, ah, didn't mean to intrude."

“No, no. It’s fine. I probably shouldn’t have left by myself anyways. I just...I wasn’t thinking.” Her shoulders dipped by a fraction.

Neither spoke for a minute, and it occurred to Caleb that this was…uncomfortable. Very, very uncomfortable. There was still enough alcohol in his system that his brain felt fuzzy, his thoughts uncollected and strewn about. What did you say to someone whose crush was currently fucking a stranger? Especially when said someone was your own—

"How are you doing?" he asked, then winced, "Sorry, that was a stupid question."

Gaze still turned away and out towards the ocean, she laughed, but her voice sounded more like swept up broken glass than her typical ringing of tiny bells. "I'm fine, really."

_Sure, about as fine as Beau is sober right now._

Now she had left him with a dilemma: did he let her statement be and pretend that she was okay, or did he call her on her blatant bullshit?

Perhaps it wasn’t that much of a dilemma.

He sighed, wondering how much he was going to regret this conversation in the morning. A good deal was his guess. "Jester, we've been friends for a while, right?"

Her hair bobbed up and down as she nodded. "Yeah, over a year now."

"Then please be honest with me. If you are as fine as you say, then why are you out in the middle of the night, without either coat or cloak, on the beach by your childhood home?"

"I just, I needed to clear my head, away from…" Her voice died away, replaced by the sound of rolling waves.

“You know, it’s nothing to be ashamed about, a lot of people would have done the same.”

She was silent at this and they stared out at the ocean together, watching the moonlight undulate over gentle swells as they washed up on the beach.

The chill of the night air began to seep through his clothes, and Caleb found himself wondering at what point the tiefling actually got cold. Nicodranas may be far warmer than most of the Empire during the winter, but there was still enough bite to the sea breeze to make him huddle deeper into his coat and wish he had grabbed his scarf.

“Caleb, can I ask you a question?” A hoarseness scratched through her lilting cadence, and he noted that her posture had slipped from her 'fine' facade back into the drooping slump from earlier.

It seemed even Jester's abundance of determined optimism could only last for so long, and she had held out for over a year with some change to spare. That was a long time to maintain hope in something that just wasn’t meant to be, and it wore a person down after a while. Not to mention that she was as exhausted as the rest of them after today, if not more so, and unable to seek out comfort from the one person she needed most. One person that was just a hundred yards away from where they sat, so close and so very out of reach

To top it all off, she had only _him_ there to offer any kind of consolation, and he was nobody’s first choice for that kind of task.

Jester was having a very bad night indeed.

Resigning himself to a conversation he never wanted to have, he grimaced and nodded. “Ja, go ahead.”

With a sigh, she bent over and wrapped her arms around her waist. “If liking someone is such a good thing, then why does it hurt so much?”

His own chest tightened. “I wish I knew, Lavorre. I wish I knew.”

What he _really_ wished was that he could take on all of that pain for her, because at least _he_ deserved it, that Fjord could stop being so fucking clueless, that she could receive the same kind of love she showed every other person she met every single day.

But he said none of these things.

“Like, I knew he didn’t feel that way about me, so it shouldn’t hurt that much, right? But I just keep thinking...have I not done enough?” Her shoulders shook and stiffened. “Because I thought I was being super obvious for so long, and now I just feel stupid. I thought that maybe if I tried harder, he would actually _see_ me.

“I mean, you know who my mom is,” she waved an arm over in the direction of the Chateau, “If anyone should be able to de-friend zone themselves, it should be me, right? So did I not try hard enough? Or am I just...not…” Her voice broke and she tightened in on herself.

Caleb gripped the edge of the bench to stop himself from raising a hand to her shoulder. “No, you are. You absolutely are.”

He may not have known what she would have said next, but it didn’t matter. Lovable? Desirable? Enough? She was so much more than any of that, and right now he could deck their half-orc friend in the face for not seeing it.

“Then why doesn’t he…?” At last, she lifted her head and turned towards him.

Moonlight reflected in her red-rimmed eyes and her tears shone like starlight. The breeze had tangled her hair around her horns into an unkempt halo, while her nose and splotchy cheeks had flushed so bright from crying they were practically fuchsia. She was a sniffling mess, and he was out of his depth.

“I don’t know,” he whispered, soft enough that she may not have even heard him. All he could focus on were her eyes staring at him with equal parts despair and hope, as if he might have some insight or solution for her. But he didn’t know what to do, what to say, or even how to think, he could not _think_.

Suddenly, his fingers were at her cheeks and he wondered how they had gotten there, wiping away the tears that kept welling up no matter how many times she tried to blink them back. Empty thoughts whirled inside his head, feeling useless as he pushed her bangs out of her eyes and unstuck pieces of damp hair from the wetness clinging to her face. His thumb skimmed down to her trembling chin, brushing against chapped lips along the way, and he wished he knew of a way to make it stop.

Having no words, no answers for her, no way to help, Caleb did something he had been wanting to do for the majority of the one year, two months, and six days since he had met her.

He kissed her.

She tasted like salt, like sea air, like tears. Her lips were warm, a bit rough, and he felt her breath cloud up against his cheeks. Maybe it was only wishful thinking, but he could have sworn that she leaned into him, just a little, just enough to make him want _more_ with a surprising desperation. It felt better than he had ever imagined, if only because it was actually _her_.

All of these wonderful little details barely registered before sense came crashing against the inside of his brain.

What the _fuck_ was he doing?

He broke off the kiss, covering his mouth with his fingers as though he could hide the evidence of what he had just done. How could he...He had no right, certainly no right to her. “I — I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, I—”

This is why he never should have gone after her when he was drunk.

He would have thought he had learned that lesson after Hupperdook. In one short second, he may have just ruined one of the best friendships he had ever had in the entirety of his miserable existence.

She was blinking up at him with violet eyes so wide he felt as though he could fall into them, an untold number of questions no doubt building up inside her with every passing moment. His embarrassment flared across his cheeks and he turned his gaze to the sand clinging to his boots.

“Just...uh...just...let me know when you’re done, and I’ll walk you back to the inn. Again, I’m sorry, I’m...Schieße.” With stilted movements, he stood to make his escape.

There was a tug on the back of his coat.

“Wait, Caleb. It’s okay,” he heard her say, voice still carrying that tremble from earlier, “I kinda, sorta, already thought that you might, um…yeah.”

He wasn’t sure if that made anything better, or if it maybe made things worse. Looking at the sand on the beach, he found the thought of him digging out a hole, crawling into it, and not coming out again for a few years very appealing.

“How long have you...?” he asked, still feeling the heat emanating from his face.

“About a month, six weeks? I think it was after that Medusa turned me to stone, you kept giving me these, um, these _looks_ , whenever you thought I was distracted or not paying attention. It was really difficult to tell otherwise, and I wasn't certain anyways.” She paused, sniffed, then gave another small tug of his coat. “Can you turn around? I’d like to ask you a favor.”

Wincing, Caleb turned towards her, but kept his eyes trained where he had been sitting.

“Okay, I’ve got kinda a weird request for you, and you totally don’t have to do it if it’s too much for you or whatever, but um…” Her rush of words raised in pitch. He looked up to see her staring at her hands, spinning one of the rings on her fingers, eyebrows pinched together. “I-I’m kinda glad you just...did what you did, because I could stop thinking about things for a few seconds. But now, everything just hurts, again. So, if it isn’t too weird for you and you're okay with it, could you maybe…give me a hug?”

Really? That was what she wanted? From _him_?

“Are you sure? I mean, I just, well—”

Wiping an errant tear away with the heel of her hand, she said, “Well, I was going to ask you to hug me anyways, and if I already kinda, sorta knew about you, then nothing has really changed, has it? So there’s nothing to get all weird about on my end. And we’re still friends, right?”

“Of course, but—”

“Then, if you’re okay with it, could you give me a hug? Please, Caleb?”

Gods, it was so hard to refuse her when she said his name like that.

At the same time, to say that he felt conflicted at her request was an understatement. He wasn't sure where the line began or ended between comforting a friend and taking advantage of a situation. And, as appealing as her request was on the surface, was it really worth it? He had already nearly ruined their friendship tonight, and there was no telling which way this would affect things. Maybe she could be placated with a hand on her back or an arm around her shoulders.

Why couldn't he have been this clearheaded five minutes ago?

His decision made, Caleb opened his mouth to make his counter offer, but then saw something that was a rare sight indeed: Jester shivered.

Jester was cold.

It wasn't quite freezing outside, he wasn't sure if it ever got that cold on the Coast, but a chill cut into him with every slight breeze. She had nothing to keep her warm, and offering up his own coat would be courteous, sure, but would also leave him in a worse spot than the tiefling was in now. Of course, he couldn’t suggest she go back to the inn either.

So, not knowing what else to do, he nodded and sat back down next to her.

“H-how—” He cleared his throat, unsure of just what to do with his hands. Hells, he had just kissed her, there was no reason to be nervous about a simple hug. Then again, hugs weren't his strong suit in the first place. “How do you want me to…?”

Jester looked up from dabbing at her eyes with the hem of her sleeve. “Oh, maybe, how about like this?”

She turned away, grabbed his wrists, and placed his rigid arms around her waist. “Is this okay?”

“Ja, that’s, that’s fine,” he said, but it was _not_ fine. How were you supposed to hug a friend you had just kissed? What was appropriate? What was too far? What if he made her feel uncomfortable?

Then she leaned back against him, and he felt every single muscle in his body stiffen as the beating of his heart tripled.

She let out a halfhearted laugh, “Caleb, you know, it’s okay to actually _hug_ me, right? I’m the one that asked for this...Try to hug me like I had kissed you back, like, if I had kissed you back _really_ hard. Hug me like you want to hug me.”

That was a bit difficult, because she _hadn’t_ kissed him back. Well, maybe she had, a little, for that fraction of a second. Maybe. It was probably just his imagination. But what if were real and it wasn’t just wishful thinking on his part? What if she had pressed up against him, had run those lovely, cool fingers of hers over his cheeks and into his hair? How would he hold her then?

Certainly in a way she wouldn’t appreciate, despite what she said.

So, instead of thinking too hard on what she told him to do, he tightened his arms around her waist and leaned forward to place his head atop her own. As he settled her against him, he couldn’t help but marvel at the perfect way her head fit under the curve of his chin.

“Is this any better?” he asked.

“I mean, yeah, but is this really how you would hold me if—?”

“Halfway, at least.” He lied.

“Hmmmm…” she hummed, one of her fingers playing with a button on his coat.

He could only hope that was contentedness in her voice, because he didn’t know if he could handle more than this.

Then he felt her tail slither around his calf, sending all matter of wonderful tingles up and down his leg, and he was nearly undone. It took every ounce of self control he had to not drag her half onto his lap, crush her to his chest, bury his face in her shoulder, and revel in that wonderful lavender scent of hers, like she had asked him to do.

No, that would be way too much.

Truth be told, this was probably too much already. It was, at the very least, a very, very bad idea.

But no matter how much he thought of how difficult this might make things in the future, how hard it would be to squash down his feelings for her like he had been doing for months now, how much more attached he would be to her after having a taste of her sweetness, he couldn’t make himself let go.

Especially not when she grabbed hold of his lapels and cocooned herself inside his coat with a sigh. “Thanks, Caleb.”

Again, the thought came to him that Fjord was an absolute fool to pass up something like this, someone like Jester Lavorre. As much as he liked and respected their friend, there was no way you could ever pay someone for something so...

His own sigh echoed her own, and, without thinking, he lowered his lips to her ear. “You’re welcome.”

Quiet though it was, he heard a sharp intake of air from the tiefling and he felt her… had she just shuddered a little?

He looked down at her in surprise, wondering just what the hell he should do with that. Probably nothing. Yes, nothing was a very good thing to do in this instance.

It was then that he spied for the first time a trail of scattered freckles leading from her ear, down the side of her neck, speckling onto the slope of her shoulder, and disappearing into the darkness of his coat. Pictured against her azure skin, they reminded him of the stars hanging in the sky.

He had a sudden, inexplicable urge to count them, to create constellations from them, to connect the trail from speck to spot with his fingertips.

Also for the first time, he wondered just where _else_ she might have those freckles.

_Stop. Now is not the time._

Trying to erase the image of her spotted skin from his mind, not to mention the persistent thought that all it took was his breath on her ear to make her gasp and shiver, Caleb raised his head back up and placed his chin between her horns.

With any luck, she would feel better in a few minutes and decide to go back to the inn sooner than later. After that, he could down three or four fingers of whiskey at the bar and try to forget how much of a fool he had made of himself tonight.

“So, Caleb.” Jester’s voice, stronger now but a tad raspy, broke him out of his thoughts.

“Ja? Was ist es?”

He felt her square her shoulders against his chest. “I know I’ve already asked you before, but I guess I should ask again.”

Thinking to himself that he had answered every query she had voiced so far tonight, at least in one way or the other, Caleb asked, a little bewildered, “What question?”

“I’m sure you remember it.” She nudged the top of her head against his chin. “You never forget anything.”

That was true, he never forgot anything, which only added to his growing sense of confusion. “Jester, I’m afraid I’m coming up a bit short here. What are you talking about?”

“Really, Caleb?” she asked, a few notes of melancholy still sprinkled into her teasing voice, “Are you really going to make me ask it again?”

“As I am a mere wizard and not a psychic, I am afraid so.”

A tiny laugh, not quite as broken sounding as before and devious enough to make him worried, rang into the night.

“All right,” she said, then leaned her head back into his shoulder until he caught a glimpse of her amethyst eyes, “Caleb, are you secretly in love with me?”

Oh.

 _That_ question.

“Um…” he began, then faltered.

He wasn’t sure how to answer _that_ question.

_…How about with the truth?_

No, that was…He couldn't, he shouldn't…

But what if he did?

It was the kind of crazy thought he would normally discard as soon as it entered his mind, but it instead stuck to the inside of his brain and held fast, leaving him a strange sense of calm.

There was no point in pretending at the moment. The answer was pretty clear in the first place and to say anything close to _No_ would be an obvious pile of bullshit. He had already let the cat out of the bag, and in a fairly embarrassing manner to boot. Really, it didn't get much more lame than drunkenly kissing a crying friend instead of comforting them.

His sober self was going to despise him in the morning. But with the expected heady buzz of alcohol, he also felt blood pounding through his veins like he was running for his life and a giddiness turning somersaults in his stomach.

Perhaps it was Jester’s proximity he found so intoxicating at this point, and not the wine.

“Do you, ah…” He swallowed, trying to figure out the words that he had never thought he would say aloud. “Do you remember what happened the first time you asked me that question?”

“I think you just kind of made a face like this—” She frowned, clenched her jaw, and glared daggers up at him with dead eyes. It was a rather good impression. “Then you kind of looked away from everyone and I thought you were going to start crying really, really hard.”

“Yes, that is correct,” he said, "Nice job on the face, by the way."

"Thank you." She nodded. "So?"

"Ah, well," he said, already feeling his traitorous cheeks turn scarlet. “Let’s just, uh...Let’s just say there’s a reason I didn’t say _No_ back then.”

She cocked her head to the side, a look of incredulity spreading across her features. “Wait. Really?”

“Um...Ja.”

“Caleb Widogast!” Oh, he did so like the way his name sounded on her lips. There was no doubt about it, he did indeed find Jester Lavorre quite intoxicating. “That was almost a year ago!”

“Yes, yes it was.”

"Why didn't you tell me?"

He almost laughed. "Why would I? You were, and are, obviously interested in someone else." That may have been the least of his many, many reasons, but sure. He would go with that.

She didn’t need to be told that he was a flaming wreckage of a human being, or that he would no doubt find a way to spread his general awfulness onto her, corrupt that joyful spirit into something dull and grim and everything she was not supposed to be. And she definitely didn’t need to know that the question of his past was still undecided, that he didn’t know whether it would be better to save his parents as Bren, or to continue living as Caleb in the present.

That last bit was perhaps the biggest point of all, and his leanings on the subject were becoming more and more muddled with each passing second.

"Pffft, that's not a good reason. Interests change all the time, Caleb." The top of her horn pressed into his jaw, breaking him out of his reverie of self loathing. "How long has it been?"

“How long?"

"Yeah, when did it start? When did you decide I was _completely irresistible_?" She put a hand to her forehead and swooned back against his chest.

Oh good, she was getting back to her snappy little self. He fought back the upward curve of his mouth. "I don't think I would call myself quite that far gone.”

Although he was questioning that assessment after tonight.

One eye peeked open and she smirked. "That's not an answer."

He let out a long sigh, trying to remember things he had forgotten on purpose. “I’m not sure when it began, and I didn’t want to admit it for quite a while…But by the time we reached Darktow, it was probably too late.”

“You’re joking!” Both of her eyes blinked open.

“I’m serious all the time, remember?” Now he couldn’t help but smile, he had managed to shock Jester Lavorre. “I wouldn’t joke about anything.”

She snorted and shook her head. “That’s a lie, no Zone of Truth required.”

“ _Efficient and humorless_ was the way I believe Nott once characterized all Zemnians.” He gave a good try at taming his smile back into something more neutral. It didn’t work very well.

She snuggled deeper into his coat. “There’s a trickster inside of you, Caleb, I’ve seen it. You’re not fooling anybody.”

“I don’t think anyone could fool you forever, Jester. After all, you’re one of the greatest detectives in all of Exandria.”

“Damn straight I am!” She giggled, then looked back up to him with a squint of her eyes. “Hey, I’ve been wondering. What would you do if you weren’t a wizard? Like what kind of job?”

He looked down at her for a moment. “I don’t know, I’ve not really given the matter much thought. Maybe own a bookshop or work in a library?”

“With your own secret, special section for smut?”

His smile was firmly in place now, there was no getting rid of it. “Of course. What about you? What would you do if you weren’t a cleric for the Traveler?”

“Me? Oh, that’s easy! I’d be a baker, and I would find a way to put cinnamon in everything!”

“Is that your favorite food?”

She nodded and placed her head up against his chin again. “I think it's more like a flavor than a food, but yes! And yours?”

“Hmm...Well, if we’re talking baked goods, I would have to say Buchteln.”

“Ooh! What’s that?”

And that was how they carried on for the next forty-six minutes and thirty-nine seconds. Just talking, enjoying the other’s company, huddling together for warmth, and ignoring what had brought them to this beach in the first place. They talked of foods they like, those they didn't, books they had read or would like to read, things Jester wanted to paint, places they had heard about but had never visited. They talked about everything and nothing at all.

As the conversation went on, Caleb’s spine began to ache from leaning against the back of the bench, Jester would occasionally pop him under the chin with the top of her head whenever she got a little too excited or animated, and one of his legs was beginning to fall asleep.

It was wonderful.

“So, um, Caleb?”

“Ja, Li-Lavorre?”

That was close. The longer he held her, the harder it was to not call her Liebchen, or Liebling, or mein Schatz, or any other number of little names he had heard his parents use for each other when he was younger.

This had been a very bad idea indeed.

“What would you have done if I had asked you to keep going earlier?”

He felt his stomach coil into an intricate line of knots. “You mean when I...?”

She nodded, her hair catching in his stubble. “Yes, when you kissed me.”

“Oh, um. Well…" he sighed, "I probably would have stopped even then."

At least, he hoped he would have.

"Why? I mean, don't you—"

"Because it's not what you really want." He did not like where she was going with this, what was she doing?

"But,” her tail tightened around his leg, “What if it had made me feel better for a little while?"

"Jester…Nein." He wasn't sure if he was saying that more to her or himself.

"What? I'm serious!” She leaned to the side until their eyes met. “What if I actually wanted you to kiss me again?"

He raised an eyebrow at her. "If it were me you actually wanted, then we would not be out here in the first place."

"Oh, really?” She batted her eyes with a coquettish smile. “And where would we be then, Cay-leb?"

_In bed, keeping warm in a very different way._

"We would be back at the inn, asleep, getting our spells back for the next day,” he replied. Well, that was technically true too.

Technically.

"You're no fun." She pouted up at him, but there was that glimmer of mirth in her eyes.

He smirked. " _Efficient and humorless_ , remember?"

“Still a lie.” She grinned, ducked her head down, and pressed back against him. “And you never answered my question: what if I wanted you to kiss me again?”

Was she really not going to give this up?

“You know, uh, it’s funny. I normally find that persistence of yours rather endearing. Right now? Ah, not so much.”

“Cay-leeeb!” She sounded like she was starting to get exasperated now.

“All right, all right,” he relented, indulging in a squeeze, and that was enough. Yes, it was enough. At least, that is what he told himself very firmly. “No, I would not kiss you again. I’m not the one you want, and that is not what _I_ want. I am very selfish, you see.”

“That’s not selfish at all, that’s just...fair.” She slumped backwards."You know, I wasn't going to ask you to do it, I was just curious."

He wasn’t sure whether he were more relieved or disappointed to hear that. It was for the best anyway with what he was about to ask of her. “Now, could you maybe do a favor for me as well?”

“Hm? Sure, what’s up?”

“Could you...could you forget that any of this ever happened by tomorrow morning? If someone asks where we were, we could just say I accompanied you on a walk to clear your head a bit.”

He felt her stiffen. “What?”

“Tomorrow morning, can we pretend that nothing happened between the two of us here?”

She lifted herself up and faced him, and to his surprise she looked...hurt. Searching his eyes, she simply asked, “Why?”

Verdammt noch mal, he already missed her warmth, missed _her_ , and he wanted nothing more than to grab her, hold her to him once more, and not let go. Instead, he wrapped his coat around himself, trying to absorb her remaining heat. “Please? It would be better for both of us.”

With a frown, she straightened up as far as she could, attempting to look down her nose at him. Too bad she was so short, otherwise it might actually be intimidating. Right then, she only looked adorable.

“What if I don’t want to forget?” she asked, chin set in that way when she was ready to defend Nott from some mean asshole on the street, or obliterate a horde of enemies in battle. It was the look she had when she was ready for a fight, and Caleb loved her for it.

“That is your decision,” he said, taking a measured tone, “But it would make things a lot less awkward between us, and much easier for me, if you did.”

“But it was my first real kiss!" Her tail twitched and tapped against the bench. "I don’t want to forget that!"

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t count Fjord anymore?”

She shrugged, fingers gesticulating in miniature circles. “Well, I, you know, um...I guess, uh technically...when I think about it, then, well...no.”

Beyond his control, a small, satisfied smile turned up the corners of his mouth. "Good.”

Scheiße, he hadn’t meant to say that out loud.

She jabbed a finger at him. “See? Now that’s just not fair!”

“What?” He tried to feign innocence, but she was right. What he was asking of her was not, by any means, fair.

"You're _happy_ that you're my first actual kiss, but you want _me_ to pretend it never happened! That's just—"

"Selfish?" he supplied.

"Yes!"

There were two options for him at this point. He could say 'I told you so' and proceed to make her angry enough that she would never bring it up again. It was a safer option, one that would force a bit of distance between them. Piss her off, weather through a few days’ to weeks’ worth of awkwardness, and things would smooth back out to where they should be after a while. It was, according to any kind of logical reasoning, exactly what he should do. It was selfish and protective and would remove the temptation of her from any equation of his future.

The other option…

“Look, Jester,” he said, resisting the urge to grab her hand. “You and I and everybody else in our little family have something very nice going on right now. We’ve lost one another, found them again, gotten into fights, dealt with some of the ugliest parts of ourselves, and we've still come out even closer together at the end of it all. That’s something pretty special, ja?”

The other option involved more honesty than he would like and left a mess of loose ends scattered around the place, but was far more bearable.

He had gotten soft, and really shouldn’t be as okay with that as he was.

“I get that what we have is a good thing and all,” she said, eyebrows knitting together, “But what does that have to do with tonight?”

“Tonight has the potential to put that all off-kilter. I like our friendship very much, and I don’t want to ruin it with unnecessary complications.”

“You mean like you drunk-kissing me when I was sad and then being a very sweet friend by cheering me up afterwards?”

“Well, the first bit more so than the second, but yes. You don’t have to pretend to not know that I like Zemnian sweet rolls filled with jam, just pretend that I told you all that on a walk around the city and not, um...here.” He gestured between the two of them.

“I don’t see why that would ruin our friendship,” she muttered, mouth scrunching to the side.

“It may not make much of a difference to you, but it makes a very big difference for me.”

She crossed her arms. “So I can’t even tell my mom?”

_Oh._

He rubbed the back of his head. “That would, uh...I mean, if you can leave my name out of it, then I suppose. But, um, just don’t bring it up between us or tell anyone in the group, that’s the main request.”

Sighing, Jester leaned her head back. “I still don’t like it.”

“I know, and I’m sorry, but this is the only way things are going to work.”

She looked over at him, scrutinizing long enough for Caleb to grow concerned. A silent Jester was a rare thing, and just as unpredictable.

Her eyes swung back out to the ocean and she bit her lip. “How about a compromise?”

He cocked his head towards her, curious suspicious, eager. “What kind of compromise?”

“Okay, okay. Here me out.” She turned back towards him, leaning forward, arm slung partway over the back of the bench.

“What if, tomorrow morning, I do what you ask and pretend you never kissed me or whatever, but!” She held up a finger. “But, what if, also, a month or two or three from now, after I’ve had time to think some stuff over, I maybe suddenly remember, 'Oh yeah, that Caleb guy over there kissed me that one time and it was short but pretty nice, and he’s pretty nice most of the time, and he’s pretty nice to look at too, and it might be pretty nice if maybe he kissed me again, or if I kissed him so that he knows that I actually _want_ to kiss him, like he said back then on that beach,’ and, well...What if that happened?”

“I, uh...”

_What if indeed?_

One month, two months, even three months was a short time to get his shit together, to decide who he was and what he was going to do. Hells, he had been putting that off for longer than he cared to admit, and he still wasn’t sure if he could cobble together a way to save his parents with what he had learned from the Kryn, or how it would even work. He may not even be with the group three months from now.

Then again, how many times had he said that to himself, and it still hadn’t come to pass? Besides, there was a good chance that her hypothetical situation would stay only that, and things could go back to normal.

Even as he weighed all of these things in his mind, he found himself nodding and stammering, “I-If that, ah, if..if that is what you want to do, then maybe...that might be...good…”

She smiled, and all of a sudden everything looked much brighter, as though one of the moons had come out from behind a cloud. “Okay, good. But we can’t treat each other any different. If I _forget_ tomorrow, I still get to give you hugs to make you uncomfortable, and fall on top of you, and say things to make you blush, and braid flowers into your hair when you _Frumpkin out_ and stuff. And _you_ still have to act exactly like you have been. That includes telling me how cute and strong I am all the time, and all those little looks and glances and smiles you’ve been giving me and not hiding very well anymore, and putting your hands on my back or shoulders and all that when it’s too dark for you to see.”

He eyed her up and down, feeling himself halfway smile. “I, ah, think that all would be much more difficult _not_ to do after tonight.”

_What the fuck._

Had he just...Did he just _flirt_ with her?

Judging by tilt of her head and the impressed look on her face: yes, yes he had.

“Welp,” she said and stood up with a kick of sand and a groaning stretch, then turned towards him with an outstretched hand, “I think we have a deal.”

Looking at her hand, a moment of panic came over him. Was this really how they should leave things? It wasn't too late, he could still backtrack, act like an asshole, force the two of them apart, make himself safe.

But that wasn't what he _wanted_ , and he was very selfish, after all.

So he took her hand, reveling in the feel of her strong grip and calloused palms. "Ja, I think we do."

With what seemed to be very little effort, she hauled him to his feet, but kept pulling until he was close, close enough to almost be chest to chest with one another. Too close. His hand was still clasped in hers and he hoped she would let go soon, otherwise...

He cleared his throat. "Uh, Jester?"

She looked up and gave him the cheekiest grin he had ever seen. "It's not tomorrow morning yet."

Then she was tugging him towards the stairs, giggling that wonderful, tinkling laugh of hers that he loved so very much as they kicked up sand behind them.

As they were about to ascend, Caleb pulled back, giving a half-hearted attempt at playing the meticulous asshole he was supposed to be. “You know, it’s about 12:47, so it _is_ technically tomorrow morning.”

She flashed a smile at him over her shoulder as she took the stairs, her hand drawing him along behind her. “‘Technically’ doesn’t apply here. Morning isn’t morning until the sun comes up. Besides,” she pulled him forward over the top step and linked her arm through his, “Don’t you want to escort me back to the inn like a gentleman?”

He raised an eyebrow at her. “As I am residing at the same inn, wouldn’t I be escorting you anyways?”

“Yes, but ‘like a gentleman’ is the key thing there. You know, instead of, like, a shitty jerk or something,” she said, poking his arm.

“Ah, well, I’m a poor choice for that, but suppose I could try.”

“Good,” she said and leaned her head against his shoulder.

It was then that he noticed something peculiar, something that had been pricking at the back of his mind for a while now.

“Jester?”

“Mmm?”

“Aren’t you cold?”

She stopped, cocked her head to the side, thinking. “No, I guess I’m not. I feel a lot warmer now. Weird, huh?”

A smile lit her face and she began walking forward again with a little skip, pulling him along.

As always, his brain went to the worst-case scenario whenever a puzzling situation presented itself. Had she manipulated him into doing what she wanted? Were there any goosebumps on her arm when she had begun shivering? Had she used him in his drunken state to make herself feel better?

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. If she had, she was damned good at hiding it. That left another possibility: he had made her feel _warm_ , had made her feel as though she were cared for.

He hoped that was true.

“So, did I ever tell you about Nicodranas’ Opal Archways?” she asked.

“Ah, a little bit the first time we entered the city, but I believe Nott wasn’t in the mood for a history lesson that day.”

“Wanna hear about them now?”

Of course he did. She could narrate paint drying over the course of an hour and he would still want to listen to her voice. “Sure, go right ahead.”

With that, she launched into the story of the city, telling him about this noble or that noble from two hundred or five hundred years ago, fudging details and making up ridiculous names whenever she forgot something. At some point, her story must have diverged from history into parody, because there was no way a rooster named ‘Pecker O’Flufferbutts’ was ever named part of the city council. It didn’t matter, Caleb probably liked her version better than the actual story anyways.

As pleasant as it was to walk arm and arm with her, to watch her get more and more excited at her wild narrative, to let snippets of laughter escape his throat, it was also like each step towards the inn tightened a cord wrapped around his heart. Every second that ticked by only reminded him how much he wanted to have this again, this closeness. The more he thought of their _compromise_ , the less likely it seemed it would come to pass. He would just have to go back to being content with her happiness, whomever that included in the future.

It was probably better that way.

Their walk seemed to slow the closer they got to the tavern, whether it be because of him or her or both he wasn’t sure, but he was grateful for those extra few minutes with her at his side. A warm rush of air hit them as he opened the door for her, greeted by the sight of an empty tavern, with one exception: Beau still sat at the bar, head pillowed on her arms, a thin string of drool hanging from her lips.

"She insisted she stay here until her friends came back. That you two?" asked a balding man with tired eyes as he wiped down the countertop.

"Yeah, that's us," said Jester, beaming her most charming smile at the barkeeper, "Thanks for letting her wait."

Unaffected, he nodded. "Just get her upstairs so _I_ can go to sleep."

Caleb leaned over and shook the monk's shoulder, attempting to be gentle. "Beauregard, wake up. Let's get you to bed."

"Huh wha…?" She slurred, bleary eyes blinking open.

Jester laid her head next to Beau's on the counter. "Beau, beds are for sleeping, not bars."

"Jessss?" She rubbed her eyes.

"Mhmm, it’s me. Ready to get up?"

Beau's eyes widened. "Oh shit! Jess!" The monk sat up with a jolt and struck the top of her head straight into Caleb's jaw, knocking him backwards a step. "Ow! F-Fuck! What the fuck, Caleb?"

"I think that should be my question," he said, rubbing his chin. Damn, that had _hurt_.

"No one'ses chin should be that sharp," Beau said as she held her hand to her head, swaying on the stool. "Hell, it's like, it's like, like a fuckin’ knife."

"I dunno," said Jester, rocking back on her heels and putting a thoughtful finger to her lips, "I think he feels kinda nice."

_Shit._

Caleb shot a panicked look to Beauregard. Thankfully, she was still too drunk to notice Jester's comment. His eyes went back to the tiefling, who now wore a sheepish smile. At least, it started that way, but the embarrassed look on her face was turning more and more into a proud grin by the second.

Gods, what had he gotten himself into?

He knew he should be mad, feel betrayed by her slip-up. That was the proper reaction. Instead, he felt a slow smile on his face answer hers. Oh, he was in deep now.

_Well, I suppose it isn't tomorrow morning yet._

The stinging in his jaw reminded him that there were other matters to attend to than exchanging grins with the unabashed tiefling.

He cleared his throat and turned his attention back to the monk. "I'm sure the pain has nothing to do with your impending hangover, Beau."

“Shaddup, Caleb. Fuckin’ smartass...”

Looking concerned, the barkeeper leaned over to Jester. “You sure those two are friends?”

She laughed. “Oh, yeah, practically the best.”

“Don’t worry,” Caleb said, “Animosity is a form of affection for this one.” He patted Beauregard on the back, perhaps a bit too hard, as she grumbled an impressive string of obscenities under her breath.

"Come on, drunky. Time for bed," Jester sing-songed as she put her arm across Beau's shoulders.

“Wai...Wait wait wait. You.” She shook off her friend’s grasp and pointed a wobbly finger at the cleric, “Are-are you okay?”

“Yep! I’m doing much better.”

“Re-really? Because earlier….”

“I just needed to take a walk and talk things out, think a few things over.” She glanced over at Caleb. “It helped...a lot.”

“Oh...good.” Beau rested her head against Jester’s arm. “I thought I might hafta beat up Captain Balls-for-Brains upstairs.”

“Aw, you’re so sweet, Beau.” She gave the monk a hug. “But no, no beatings needed tonight.”

“Good. Really wouldn’t be fair...he’s so weak n’everythin'.”

“Yeah, you might kill him on accident, and that would just be too messy and expensive. Come on now, up we go.” Jester threw Beau’s arm around her shoulders.

"I can do it, I can do it." The monk waved off her friend and took an unsteady step toward the stairs. “I can handle a few drinks just fine.”

Jester followed close behind her up the steps, hand extended in case Beau took a tumble.

“Thanks again, sorry for the trouble.” Caleb nodded to the barkeep and tossed him a silver before heading up the stairs.

“Yeah…Sure.” The man’s concerned look had grown into one of unsettled alarm.

Good to see some things never changed for the Mighty Nein.

As he rounded the corner of the landing, his stomach flipped in place as he found Jester waiting for him at the top of the stairs, hands clasped behind her back.

“Ah, um,” Caleb scratched his head and stopped a step below her. “Beau’s okay by herself?”

“Yeah, she’s all right, and our room is close anyways.” She squinted at him and cocked her head. “Hey can you hold still for a minute?”

“Uh, sure. Is there something wron—” His throat closed up as her fingers, cool and soothing like a spring rain, lifted his chin and tilted his head to the side.

White-knuckled, his hand wrapped around the railing and he tensed every muscle head to toe, trying his best not to close his eyes and melt into her touch.

“Ooh, I thought so,” she said, though he wasn’t sure if she were speaking to herself or him, “That looked like it had hurt. You’ve already got a nice shiner going there, kinda looks like a kidney bean. Guess Beau really is hard-headed, huh?”

He quirked an eyebrow at her, “I think she’s rather proud of it. Both metaphorically and physically.”

“I would be too if I could bash in someone’s skull with my forehead.” She tilted his head down towards her to look him in the eye. “I’m actually super jealous.”

Shit, her face was too close to his. He swallowed, all too conscious that she could feel the thickness of it with her hand against his throat like that.

Fixing his eyes on the ceiling, he said, “You’re plenty strong, and you’ve got your horns. I’m sure you could do the same with practice.”

“Hey, you might be right. I should try that!” He saw her reach for her holy symbol out of the corner of his eye. “Okay, give me a second, I should still have enough left for this.”

Still staring up at the ceiling, he listened to her speak her playful invocation.

“Oh, Traveler. Please _Cure_ the _Wounds_ on my nice friend here because he’s been very helpful and sweet to your favorite cleric and I pray that you will make him look at me. Right now. Hey, Caleb, eyes down here.”

Confused, he glanced down at her.

“Good job.” She smiled at him and the familiar sparks of green circling her holy symbol began wrapping up her arm. Placing both of her hands on his face, she pulled his head down and lifted his chin back up. A breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding hit his lungs as she placed a kiss against his jaw, the wonderful feeling of her lips on his skin blending with magic and healing and...gods, he shouldn’t be allowed to feel something this good, even as simple as it was.

As the spell began to fade, her lips lingered on him, pressing in a little deeper, and he wondered, dreaded, _hoped_ there was more to come. But then he felt her pull away, and he knew he had to weave the scattered strands of his mind back into something usable before she left. All he could do, however, was look down at her and breathe, his fingers coming to rest against the spot her lips had just been.

Over the course of an hour and a half, she had managed to unravel almost every layer of defense he had formed against her and against his own feelings, and he didn't think there was any way to wrap himself up again.

Jester’s eyes had the same spark as her magic as she said, “Thank you, Caleb. You’re a good friend.”

“B-bitte. I mean, you’re welcome. Thank you for the, um, the healing.”

That’s it? That’s all he could think to say?

_It was just a kiss, even less than what you did earlier. Pull yourself together!_

Jester looked his face over as a smirk curled her lips. No doubt his cheeks were blushing brighter than the sun.

_Stop acting like you’re twelve!_

“See you tomorrow morning, Caleb. Let’s...talk...in a month or so, okay?” Her hands were clasped behind her back again as if nothing had happened, rolling back and forth from heels to toes and back again.

“Ja, gute nacht, sleep well." He heard himself say. "Ah, see you...see you tomorrow morning.”

"See you." She grinned.

Then she was gone with a swish of her tail, leaving him alone, rooted to the top of the stairs.

Half of him wished tomorrow morning wouldn’t ever come, while another half wished it was already here. A small part of him wished he had never gone after her, most of him wished he had never kissed her, a quarter of him wished he had kissed her more, and, right now, almost every part of him was kicking himself every other second for insisting on that _stupid_ promise from her.

No, that last part was necessary.

He needed time and space to figure out _time_ itself. Things needed to be prioritized, put in order, research needed to be done, materials needed to be bought, he had to see if there was any way he could keep most of his present while still changing his past. Who would come out on top if he couldn’t? His desires or his parents’ lives?

One month.

One month was all he had left, and maybe then he could allow himself a bit of happiness, or perhaps even bring some happiness to someone else.

One month.

He needed to get to work.

**Author's Note:**

> I have another, half-written version of this chapter where things take a turn to something a bit more steamy than fluffy. Anyone interested in me posting it?

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Torn](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21202556) by [TheMuffinBee](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMuffinBee/pseuds/TheMuffinBee)




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